


When The Wind Changes

by glockenspielium



Category: Mary Poppins (1964), Mary Poppins - All Media Types
Genre: Drabble, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-13
Updated: 2013-01-13
Packaged: 2017-11-25 07:22:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/636497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glockenspielium/pseuds/glockenspielium
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She'll stay until the wind changes, and when the wind changes she will come again. And he'll be right there waiting..</p>
            </blockquote>





	When The Wind Changes

**Author's Note:**

> My first Mary/Bert! Companion to Hearts of Eyes.

When the wind changes- that's when she comes.

You can feel it in the air, as it freezes on your fingertips, smell it along every road and corner. The birds know first; chattering away, noisly excited, because when she comes there's bound to be adventure.

Something exciting, something new. Suddenly, everything- every thought or action or person that would normally be boring or regular or common, is marvellous and wonderful.

She can do that and so much more. I know it; I've seen it.

And I'll see it again.

I realise it may seem strange, waiting the days away, not wasting for sure; but most certainly waiting. Every painting, every dance, every song... Somehow, when she's there, they are more beautiful than I could ever make them on my own.  
And so I wait. Happily.

But-

Even if she couldn't.

Even if her songs weren't so pure and sweet, even if her snapping fingers didn't make worlds grow from chalked landscapes. Even if the world had gone to pieces, beyond even what she could fix, and everyone had fallen away.

I'd still be here. I'd still be waiting.  
Waiting for her smile, for her rosy cheeks.

For the way she walks down the road just in front of me, the way she dances as if she is floating an inch off the ground. The way she looks around her and sees far beyond the tip of her nose. The way all creatures, dogs and children alike, are drawn to her loving nature.

For every second Thursday she takes off.

For being practically perfect; it was always more than enough for me.

Because there would be a chance that the wind would change again, and a soft mist would form high above the rooftops; slowly covering the streets.

And she would be there.


End file.
